


Unresolved

by TG81



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Parentlock, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:23:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TG81/pseuds/TG81
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Moriarty's international network taken care of, Sherlock returns to 221B Baker St. He's brilliant enough to know things wouldn't have stayed the same, however is he prepared enough to handle the changes that have occured over the past two years?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first go about in the Sherlock fandom. I've mostly played with vampires and wolves, so this is a bit of a departure for me. I'm American, so if there are any Brits out there who'd take me under their wing, I'd be most appreciative. Thank you for your time!

He was having that feeling again. 

He knew looking around would do nothing. There was always someone watching him, he’d resigned himself to that. That no matter where he was going or what he was doing, someone was watching him closely. If wasn’t Mycroft’s CCTV cameras, not this time at least.

A few years back he wouldn’t have cared, but now he had someone in his life that made everything worth living for again.

“Katie,” he called. “It’s time to head home for dinner.”

“Aww, daddy, do we have to?” comes the voice of his almost five-year old daughter from the slide.

“Well, you have to eat sometime, you know.”

“Eating slows me down and I’m busy!” she insists and though she doesn’t know it, her words knock the wind out of him. It’s too much like him. Though it’s not her fault, his patience has all but run out.

“Katie,” he says sharply. “We’re going. Now.”

“Fine.” Blonde pigtails swing back and forth, accompanied by serious stomping in the playground. John couldn’t help but chuckle at her ferocity. 

“Katherine Elizabeth Watson. You know better than to behave like this. From what I understand, Mrs. Hudson has prepared your favourite dinner and I’d hate to have to tell her to bin it all.” 

He grinned at her furrowed brow, as if she were deliberating if a tantrum was more important than fish and chips with cupcakes for desert. She clearly decided that food was more important.

“Daddy, can we invite my friend over, please?”

“Which friend is this?” John asks the whirling dervish attached to his finger.

“My best friend from school.” The duh was clearly implied.

“Sweetheart, in the past month you’ve had at least six new best friends. You’ll have to give me a name so I can keep them all straight.” His eyes scan the street, because unlike the other times, this surveillance feels closer than before. 

As they round the corner, John fishes for his keys to his flat but stops when something catches the corner of his eye from across the street.  
“We have to go inside,” the little girl tugs at his hand. “I have to go,” instantly starting to squirm. 

His should-be shaking but calm under pressure hands unlock the door and leans down. “Listen to me. Go inside and straight to Mrs. Hudson’s. She’s waiting for you and I will be in shortly.” With a quick kiss to her curls he opens the door. 

It doesn’t surprise him that in the few, short moment he had his back turned, he would turn back around to be face-to-face with the one person he never expected to see again.

The one person who supposedly died a bit over two years ago.

“Sherlock.” 

“Jo-” before he could finish, the only thing Sherlock saw was his former lover’s fist coming directly for his nose.


	2. Chapter 2

If someone had asked Sherlock a year ago what he needed, he would have said nothing, maybe quiet for his mind palace or perhaps a few biscuits to temporarily halt his cravings for sweets. Sherlock Holmes would never admit to needing sleep. Sleep, after all is very...boring.

That’s exactly what happened when John dragged Sherlock into 221A Baker Street and plopped his former flatmate and fiance on a horrid paisley settee. Sherlock fell asleep, or blacked out. When later asked, he’ll say he simply deleted the information.

\--

“I think you broke it.”

“Yes, well, that was the point.”

“But why, John? It’s been well over two years since-”

“I’m fully aware of the timeline, Mrs. Hudson.”

“Keep the ice right there. I can give you another one for your eye.”

“Mrs. Hudson, would you mind looking after Katie for a bit? I called Clara and she’ll be by in an hour to pick her up.”

“Of course, dear. Take all the time you need to reconcile.”

The good doctor didn’t bother to correct his landlady because it wasn’t really worth the time or effort in the moment.

\--

Pacing the floor in 221B, John couldn’t rest easy until he knew his daughter was taken safely to his sister-in-law’s. He knows it’s only a matter of time before Mycroft arrives to question his brother on his whereabouts for the past twenty-seven months.

Come to think of it, it was a tad suspicious that there hadn’t been any tinted towncars in the vicinity of Baker Street. John had to wonder if his former future brother-in-law knew Sherlock was safe and home. 

But was this home?

Did Sherlock still have the right to call this place his, or maybe it was theirs? Technically he died, or at least that’s what John Watson thought up until an hour ago.

He sits in his arm chair, staring at lightly snoring Sherlock Holmes, wondering how it was possible that he was still alive.

“This phone call, it’s my note. It’s what people do don’t they? Leave a note?  
“Leave a note when?”

“Goodbye, John.”

Sherlock’s body falling, flailing, hitting the ground with a sickening thud.

 

His chest hurts thinking about that day. He’d gotten better at not letting the grief consume him all at once. Right after that day happened, John was inconsolable. Lestrade and the rest of the Yard’s attempts at getting John out of the house were useless. Greg found that getting John to eat and take a shower was a trial in and of itself. 

Staring at his love, his former love, his chest aches a little less, but the pain and sadness that had been shoved away is replaced with anger.


End file.
